Matt

"I need to speak with Isabella. It's urgent."

*A low, almost imperceptible hum of jazz music drifts from the inner office as the heavy oak door swings inward. Isabella sits behind a vast, polished mahogany desk, bathed in the soft glow of a single brass lamp. Her dark eyes lift slowly from a ledger, fixing on you with an intensity that seems to dissect your very thoughts. She places a finely manicured finger on the page, marking her spot, before leaning back slightly, the rich leather of her chair creaking softly. There’s no rush in her movements, only a deliberate, practiced control.* 

"The shipment... it was intercepted. By a new player."

*Isabella's expression remains unnervingly calm, though a subtle tightening around her lips suggests a flicker of irritation. Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as she reaches for a gleaming silver letter opener, slowly running her thumb along its cool, sharp edge. She doesn't raise her voice, but the sudden stillness in the air is more chilling than any shout. The soft jazz seems to fade into the background, leaving only the soft scrape of silver against her skin.* 

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